


In which Valkyrie is a Playboy Bunny

by Mooncactus



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY, hits publish button while screaming, shame fic of shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3018674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncactus/pseuds/Mooncactus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valkyrie gets her first real undercover mission: a waitress in a sleazy underground mage bar. Could be worse.</p><p>(written March 2013. Probably, for all intents and purposes, counts as a crack fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Valkyrie is a Playboy Bunny

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god how do i even begin to describe what this is.
> 
> it was pre lsodm (pre skeleton committee, even) times were tough. people were starving, for fic. i did what i had to do. this is so dumb. and illogical. and i have literally uploaded it nowhere aside from the forums. and now, here it is, for you, dear reader. im going to bury my head in the sand now. goodbye

Valkyrie frowned, taking the top between her index finger and thumb on either side, and yanking it up. She checked in the mirror, adjusting a bit more, and then nodded.  
  
She rocked this.  
  
The corset fit perfectly and was way more comfortable than she could have guessed, fit her every curve like a glove – but without the pinching or zipper welts, or whatever else came with one of these not made by a Bespoke. Not that said Bespoke was too happy about this commission, but, hey, it was for a case. Which meant it could take a bullet. Knowing how her life went, it would probably have to.  
  
And she looked good. She turned, taking in the folded ears atop her head, the dark stockings (the only thing not made by Ghastly), the pitch black corset with a small fluffy tail and the similarly comfy black heels. Everything stayed in, no matter how she turned or bent. She could probably do a cartwheel. Lastly, she buttoned on the collar and the little wrist cuffs, completing the image.  
  
Valkyrie was a Bunny. For tonight, anyway. Her first genuine undercover mission, and she looked  _amazing_.  
  
She walked down the staircase of the house on Cemetery Road, hand trailing down the rail. The club opened in less than ten minutes, and they’d need to be there within the hour.  
  
“Hey,” she called out, unsure which living room Skulduggery was in. “I’m ready.”  
  
“Took you long enough,” he called back from the room to the left of her. She followed his voice and stood in the doorway, heels clicking together. He faced away from her, adjusting his gun.  
  
“Well,” he started, turning around, “it-“  
  
He faced her, and suddenly his voice cut off. The gun slowly slipped out of his hand. He suddenly jolted, catching it before it went off and tested exactly how bulletproof Valkyrie’s suit was. She frowned.  
  
Skulduggery returned his gun to its holster without taking his eyes off her. “I thought,” he said, his voice sounding slightly off, “you were going in your… normal outfit.”  
  
“Figured it was too suspicious. For a creepy mage nightclub, I mean. Besides, this one is as safe. Ghastly made it.”   
  
Skulduggery paused. “And how did he take that?”  
  
Valkyrie shrugged. “He didn’t agree, but he said it was fine as long as it was…” she switched to an impersonation of Ghastly’s voice, “ _just_  for a case. Whatever that meant.”  
  
She thought Skulduggery might have winced.  
  
“So,” she said, feeling a little annoyed he hadn’t complimented her yet. “How do I look? Convincing bunny waitress thing?”  
  
“Fine,” he said, voice very slightly strained.  
  
Valkyrie frown deepened. “That’s it?” She slowly turned, showing off the rest. “I even have a tail,” she said, over her shoulder. “I thought it was pretty good.”  
  
“It is …” his response was drawn out, voice very low. “… Unexpected.”  
  
His partner tilted her head. “Wait. Are you embarrassed?”  
  
“No.”  
  
The response was so immediate she laughed out loud. “Come on,” she protested. “You’re not one to talk. You’ve got that ridiculous suit on. And a pimp cane.”  
  
“It is not a pimp cane.”  
  
“It totally is a pimp cane.”  
  
Skulduggery glowered at her, and she grinned, hands on her hips. “I don’t look any sillier than you do.”  
  
“That is not the problem,” he muttered, head tilting slightly down.  
  
Valkyrie walked towards him, still grinning, and carefully looped his arm with hers. He pulled back like she had stung him, and she repeated the action, more forcibly.  
  
“This isn’t going to work if you act like you’re terrified of me,” she ordered.  
  
“Right. Of course.”  
  
They walked out the door, Skulduggery’s posture stiff, his arm bent in a way that it barely brushed Valkyrie’s.  
  
“I was thinking,” Valkyrie said slowly, “that after this, I should go drive the Bentley into a wall, or something.”  
  
“Right,” he answered, immediately. “Of course.”  
  
 Valkyrie grinned. Well. This plan was going to work out just fine.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the bunny suit was not the best thing to wear in a dark, puddle-ridden alley behind a club. Valkyrie tried not to shiver as she followed Skulduggery, matching her steps to his as to not stumble in the dim lighting. Her feet were still uncertain in their brand new three inch heels, comfortable or not. Skulduggery stopped in front of a plain door, almost crushed by the bricks of the building’s back wall, and knocked on it, resting his cane on the ground.  
  
Nothing happened. Skulduggery was still pretending she was not there (or, at least, was more sensibly dressed) and refused to respond to any more of her teases, so Valkyrie looked for another distraction. There was a girl resting against the wall, smoking. She wore the same outfit as Valkyrie, except in an eye-catching forest green, a name tag at her hip. She acknowledged Valkyrie with a slight eyebrow raise.  
  
Finally, the door opened, and young faced man peered out. “Oh, hello, Skulduggery.” He took in his attire, slowly. “...This is for the case, right?”  
  
“Yes. Thank you again for cooperating, Stanton.”  
  
Stanton straightened himself respectfully, though he stood almost a foot shorter than Skulduggery. “Always happy to help. But, ah, I hope you remember that little rule we discussed. No bothering any other customer besides your criminal?”  
  
“Of course,” Skulduggery said. “And I have no plan on bothering him either. We’ll take the stolen item and be gone before he even notices it’s gone.”  
  
“Good,” Stanton said, and smiled boyishly. “Speaking of we, where is your partner?”  
  
Valkyrie waved from behind Skulduggery. “Here,” she said.  
  
Stanton jumped back. “Oh! That  _is_  you. I thought you were one of ours. I didn’t even… wow.”  
  
Valkyrie beamed. “I’ll try not to get in the way of your actual Bunnies.”  
  
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Stanton murmured appreciatively. Skulduggery cleared his imaginary throat (rather threateningly, Valkyrie thought), and Stanton jolted again.  
  
“Right,” he said, face ruddier than usual. “Go in first, Valkyrie. There should be some name tags over on a table – grab a random one and pin it on your left hip.”  
  
“Got it.” Valkyrie slid carefully past Skulduggery. The steps were slippery, and she didn't have a lot of wiggle room. To her surprise, his hand gently brushed against her lower back, helping to right her after she stumbled slightly in her heels. Stanton took a giant step back to let her through, rather carefully avoiding looking directly at her. Skulduggery seemed to be making him nervous. She couldn’t  _possibly_  imagine why.  
  
“See you in a minute,” she said to Skulduggery, managing a half curtsey, and then went to hunt for a name tag.

* * *

Valkyrie, hip now declaring her Kitty, hung back, watching the other girls saunter around. She hadn’t got the hang of it yet. She was still trying to figure out how to move her hips more without falling over, and attempting to devise a plan to completely avoid taking drink orders. Faking an ankle injury was on the mind when she heard someone yelling. …And she was pretty sure it was at  _her_.   
  
“Hey!”  
  
Valkyrie slowly turned, seeing a dark skinned girl in a baby blue suit, her hands on her hips. Valkyrie pointed to herself hesitantly.  
  
“Yes,” the woman said, sighing. “I’m talking to you, Cs.”  
  
Oh  _hell_  yes. She had never passed for Cs in her life. She  _liked_  this suit.  
  
“I need someone to cover my table. It’s in the leftmost corner. You can handle it, right, new girl?”  
  
Valkyrie pulled back. “Um.”  
  
“That’s the spirit. Straighten your back and stick your chest out. Theeere you go,” she said, gently patting Valkyrie on the shoulder, like she was a scared rabbit. “You’re a lifesaver.”  
  
Valkyrie managed a weak smile.  
  
The fake bunny pulled herself through the door, forcing her nerves down, and walked with what she hoped was obvious confidence through the club. It was low lit, but it was easy enough to see where she was going. It was warm enough that she could feel her arms again. The conversation inside was light and cheerful, even among the packs of men in serious looking suits. She thought she might have even seen some necromancers. The girls around her were grinning and flitting about, moving past her and nodding like she had always been there.  
  
She made her way to a table, and hovered awkwardly, not yet noticed by its patrons. A bunny in red noticed her, drinks balanced on the tray in her hand, and she frowned directly at Valkyrie. She put down her tray and turned toward her, her blond hair falling directly across her face.  
  
“This is my table, hun. You lost?”  
  
Valkyrie smiled apologetically. “I’m taking over for the girl in blue, and I can’t find her table-”  
  
“That would be me, sweetheart,” said a man behind her, voice heavily slurred. Valkyrie turned, slowly, an icy feeling creeping up her back even before she saw his face.  
  
She found herself face to face with Arthur Dagan.  
  
Her heart threatened to burst out her suit, but there was no recognition whatsoever in his beady eyes. They were unfocused, and his cheeks and ears were red. He gave her a large grin, and raised his glass with thick fingers. “Mind topping me off?”

  


Valkyrie forced a smile. “Of course. I’ll be right back,” she said, slowly backing away. She kept an eye on him until she got to a corner, and then darted behind it quickly, trying to catch her breath. And her thoughts. Her hand was pressed against the black fabric of her suit, and she could feel her heart pounding.  
  
She was okay. He hadn’t recognized her. And she wasn’t  _that_  surprised – a sixteen year old in a gown he saw for five minutes didn’t look too much like an eighteen year old in a Playboy bunny outfit – but she couldn’t risk it again. Not before she found the guy they were looking for. Valkyrie glanced around for a minute or two, but the corner she had backed into was isolated and dark, the closest table a few feet away.  
  
Valkyrie ignored it and the man there at first, but found her gaze drawn back to him. He was… staring. Just staring, directly at her. Appreciating her figure, definitely, but there was something else. Something she couldn’t read. She fidgeted involuntarily.  
  
He rested his chin on his hand, elbow balanced on the table, a slight appreciative smirk on his face as Valkyrie stared back.  
  
Who the hell was this guy? Did he recognize her? He had on a velvet smoking jacket, and she could make out a straight nose and high cheekbones through the dim lighting. Was he the man she was supposed to find? If he had figured her out first, that was a bad sign. A  _really_  bad sign.  
  
Valkyrie straightened her shoulders, and walked towards the man, stopping at the edge of his table, her palms flat on the surface. He only raised his eyebrows, and Valkyrie blushed unwillingly, her fingers curling back towards her. Something about him made her insides twist, even though she still couldn’t recognize him.  
  
And then he tilted his head.  
  
Her body reacted to the motion before her brain did, relaxing, making her feel safe, making her shoulders drop.  
  
And then she scowled.  
  
Skulduggery Pleasant’s facade only smiled wider. “The detective finally figures it out,” he said. “You didn’t suspect the man wearing gloves indoors?”  
  
“You switched outfits,” Valkyrie said defensively. “The gloves aren’t even black. That’s cheating. You cheated.”  
  
Skulduggery shrugged. “I saw it in the coat room and was tempted. And the gloves matched.”  
  
“…You stole it?”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“You stole a  _Hugh Hefner jacket_?”  
  
“I’m going to give it back,” he said, almost defensive.  
  
“That’s not the point!”  
  
“Well,” he said. “If you didn’t catch on, I don’t think anyone else will.”  
  
“That’s great,” Valkyrie replied, glaring, “for you. On the other hand, Arthur Dagan happens to be at my table, and if I don’t get him a drink soon, he might actually sober up enough to figure me out.”  
  
Skulduggery considered this, tapping his fingers on the table. “That’s not good,” he said at last. “Do you think you can recover what we’re looking for before he catches on?”  
  
Valkyrie sighed. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to be. Or who.”  
  
“It’s an ivory talisman. It works like a memory stick, carved with...” he cut himself off, looking behind Valkyrie. She turned around, slowly.  
  
“Excuse me,” said the Red Bunny from earlier, gently bumping her shoulder into Valkyrie’s. “I think you have a drink to pick up.”  
  
The blonde then went up on tiptoe, and spoke into Valkyrie’s ear, voice soft. “No flirting with non-club members, remember?”  
  
Her temporary co-worker didn’t mind that – her tone was stern but gentle – but the way Skulduggery smiled behind his gloved hand in his stupid smoking jacket made her want to punch something. She made herself nod instead, face warm.  
  
Giving a half curtsey to Skulduggery (and hating him all the while) she stepped lightly towards the bar, wondering how the hell she’d find an ivory talisman in a room full of old mages who were all very intent on hitting on her.

  


She had answered the bartender’s inquiry about what she was picking up with a shrug, and ended up with a glass filled with a grass green liquid that shifted in color when she moved it this way or that. Feeling way more like a waitress than she’d like, Valkyrie picked it up and balanced it on her tray. All she could hope was that the drink was as strong as it looked.  Her eyes gave this side of club a final look while she walked back, but she wasn’t seeing any weird talismans. If she could, she’d have already been back to Skulduggery’s table, asking for more help. Unfortunately, the blonde in red kept whipping her head around, as if determined to make sure the newest Bunny stayed on track.  
  
She let herself sulk for a moment, and then forced herself to perk up, a fake giddy smile on her face as she returned to the corner Dagan was isolated in.  
  
There was a wide radius around him – some of the other club members had scooted their chair to the side farthest away from the portly mage – and he was alone, with only his glass cupped between his hands for company. She wasn’t surprised that people were avoiding him. He brightened when he saw Valkyrie, and practically made grabby hands towards his drink.  
  
“Why, thank you,” he said, when she put it down in front of him. “You’re a lovely girl, Kitty.”  
  
Valkyrie frowned and then remembered, hand flitting to the name tag at her hip. “Oh. Yes, right, thanks.”  
  
“I forget my name sometimes, too,” he said with a wink. “But I can write that and my address down for you.” Valkyrie tried not to gag.  
  
Dagan began chatting aimlessly without waiting for (or expecting, it seemed) a response, and Valkyrie took this as an opportunity to search  _this_  side of the club. Again. She kept her body turned towards Dagan, and tilted her head down, like she was listening, but scanned the floor out of the corner of her eye.  
  
She immediately found the maroon smoking jacket, about two tables away, and Skulduggery tilted his head upwards in acknowledgement. All he seemed to be doing was loitering around, leaning against a table. …Was he actually  _working_  on this case? If he had picked this one so all he’d have to do was stare at girls in revealing outfits, he’d never hear the end of it.  
  
A blur of movement caught her eye, and Valkyrie’s head turned towards a sharp looking young man, twirling a bone white stick – a little thicker than a flute – between his fingers. She caught Skulduggery’s gaze, and he nodded, walking towards her and the talisman.  
  
Valkyrie went to meet him, forgetting Dagan until his drunken babbling suddenly cut off.  
  
“Hey,” he said, brow furrowed. “Where are you going?”  
  
“I have to help someone else, sir,” she said, turning away from him. There was no response, so she figured he was too drunk to actually argue.  
  
And then she felt a hand somewhere unwanted.  
  
She yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air.  
  
“Got your tail,” Dagan bragged.  
  
Valkyrie pulled away, and cringed as every eye in the club turned towards her. So much for stealth. She looked behind her to see Dagan, proudly holding up a fistful of white fluff.  
  
Men turned in their chairs, laughing, or stood up and applauded – including the man with the talisman.  
  
Valkyrie pushed the anger away, the humiliation and the burning need to hit every single man staring at her, and focused instead on the pale little object left abandoned on the table’s surface. If the crowd stopped looking at her for a second…  
  
Her wish was granted as she watched the men reach for a tall gentleman, pulling him back and away from her and Dagan. It took her a moment to recognize the velvet sleeve, and another moment to notice the look on Skulduggery’s face.  
  
She forced herself to ignore that too, and dived towards the table. (It was a very good thing that her outfit was made to keep everything in.) She clasped the talisman between her hands and hesitated. She didn’t even know why they were getting this, or what it did, or who the person who owned it was. A lot of fuss for a little knick knack, she thought. Whatever. Skulduggery could explain it to her later, she rationalized, and then shoved it down the top of her suit. By the time she turned back around, there were at least eight men holding Skulduggery back from a very smug looking Dagan.  
  
Before she could give him a signal to call off the distraction, he had broken free and stormed towards Dagan, grabbing him by his collar and lifting him off the ground. He was completely silent, but the blond man puttered and puffed.  
  
Her eyes widened. Valkyrie pushed past the spectators and grabbed Skulduggery’s arm as quickly as she could, fingernails pressing into the crushed velvet.  
  
“Stop,” she said, nearly breathless. “Stop. It’s not worth it.”  
  
Skulduggery hesitated a moment, and then lowered Dagan to the ground without a word. Valkyrie didn’t move her hand from his arm.  
  
Her harasser coughed for moment, face red, collar mussed. He had to tilt his head up to look either of them in the eye.  
  
But he smiled nonetheless.  
  
“Well,” he said, “All of that nobility and it doesn’t even matter.” He had sobered up, his words more biting, more precise. “ _Her_  type doesn’t care for that.” Skulduggery tensed, and Valkyrie tightened her grip and pulled him back a fraction. Arthur Dagan continued. “All that matters is who gives her the biggest tip, the little sl--”  
  
Valkyrie suddenly let go of Skulduggery’s arm, reeled back, and hit the fat mage right in the face. His head snapped backwards, and she could hear a satisfying crack in the awed silence. His face had become even redder thanks to the blood pouring from his nose. She had broken it. Excellent.  
  
Valkyrie smiled. “Time to go,” she said to Skulduggery, who could only stare at her. So she dragged him after her, past stunned club members and an even more stunned Stanton.  
  
She paused at the doorway, feeling like she had forgotten something. She glanced at Skulduggery, and it clicked. She stepped towards him and made a grab for his jacket.  
  
“This isn’t yours,” she reminded him.  
  
He nodded, his facade looking as dazed as the other faces surrounding them.  She took the smoking jacket in both hands and pulled it off roughly, tossing it towards the general direction of the coatroom. A man jumped up and caught it like was a baseball.  
  
“Right,” Valkyrie said, nodding. “I think we have about four seconds before we get kicked out.”  
  
She dashed out of the club, heels and all, with Skulduggery right behind her.

  


It was too cold to walk back in the Bentley in only this. Especially at 10:30 at night. She could feel the regulated heat in her torso, and her legs weren’t too bad, but her arms and shoulders were freezing. Shivering, Valkyrie adjusted her hair so it’d cover as much bare shoulder as possible.  
  
Skulduggery’s façade was off, and he kept looking behind them as if expecting an angry mob of club members to chase them down.  
  
“You know,” he said, turning back to her. “If you hadn’t ripped that jacket off me, I’d have something to nobly offer you to wear.”  
  
 “It wasn’t yours,” Valkyrie scoffed. “Probably belonged to one of those losers who were cheering Dagan on. No way I’d wear  _that_.”  
  
“True,” he agreed. “But I didn’t even get to recover my original disguise.”  
  
“Good. It was hideous.”  
  
“Not as nice as the smoking jacket, true. Maybe I’ll get Ghastly to make me my own.”  
  
Valkyrie stopped walking, making a face, and he laughed. They stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, and for a moment, Valkyrie thought he was going to reach over and put his arm around her.  
  
Instead, he put both hands in his pockets and starting walking again. Valkyrie hung back for a few seconds, and then joined him.  
  
“How long do you think until Arthur Dagan figures it out?” She asked, just to fill the awkward silence.  
  
“Do you think he will? I thought we covered our tracks pretty well.”  
  
She scoffed. “Maybe before you stepped in.”  
  
Skulduggery held up a hand. “I was completely silent.”  
  
“And jumping to defend the honor of a girl you aren’t supposed to know.” There was another awkward pause, and then she spoke up again, much quieter. “...Thank you.”  
  
“No need,” he said. “You didn’t need me back there.”  
  
 He opened the Bentley’s door for her, and she slid in, slipping off her heels. “Well, yeah, obviously not. But it’s still appreciated.”  
  
Skulduggery only nodded, and went around to the other side of the car without a word. Valkyrie wondered if she had embarrassed him again.  
  
“ … I hope this thing was worth it.” She said, reaching down the top of her suit. Skulduggery stared.  
  
“It was the only storage option I had,” she said, face flushing slightly. She handed it to him.  
  
“…It’s warm.” She could hear the frown in his voice.  
  
“Uh, yeah. Do you think I’m a lizard or something?”  
  
Skulduggery did not dignify this with an answer. He placed it in his pocket and started up the car.  
  
“So,” she asked, folding her arms. “What does it even do?”  
  
“…To be honest, I’m not sure.”  
  
She frowned at him.  
  
“We don’t need it,” he explained. “Someone just reported a member at the club had stolen it, so…”  
  
Valkyrie stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
  
“You were the one that wanted an undercover mission.”  
  
“All of that was for  _nothing_?”  
  
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” Skulduggery muttered.  
  
“Oh, obviously not. All  _you_  did was stand around and stare!”  
  
“I thought you could handle it on your own,” Skulduggery protested. “I was giving you responsibility.”  
  
She would have hit him if he wasn’t driving.  
  
“I hate you,” she said, sinking back in her seat and sulking. “Having to serve drinks and deal with Dagan for a stupid little keepsake some  _moron_  lost.”  
  
 “Might I remind you that it was your idea to go in this particular disguise?”  
  
 “No, you may not,” she growled. “I should have punched  _you_.”  
  
“It would have been equally impressive.”  
  
Valkyrie pulled up her feet onto the seat and glared out the window for the entire rest of the way.

* * *

When they arrived at the house on Cemetery road, Valkyrie was still sulking. She had put her heels back on before getting out of the car, and stomped her way up the steps to the house. Skulduggery followed closely behind.  
  
“...Are you alright?” he asked, voice halting.  
  
“Yeah, fine,” she said, gritting her teeth. She pulled the door open and tried to slam it behind her, but Skulduggery caught her wrist. He closed the door and then turned to face her. She tried to turn away, but he twisted her back towards him.  
  
“Valkyrie,” he said, voice serious, “if this is about the case... I’m sorry. You seemed to be having fun. I didn’t think any of that would happen, and I wouldn’t have agreed to do this case if I had.” She had her head down, refusing to face him. He kneeled slightly, tilting his head so she’d have to look at him.  
  
“Please don’t be upset,” he said, concern in his voice.  
  
Valkyrie tilted her head up, and realized how close he was to her, realized she could just lean forward and kiss him.  
  
Realized she might actually want to.  
  
“I…” her pulse was racing, and she wondered if he could feel it through her wrist. “I’m fine,” she said, swallowing. “I  _did_  have fun. And the bad stuff wasn’t your fault.”  
  
“That is very true.” She could hear the smile in his voice. They looked at each other for a long moment, and Valkyrie closed her eyes, and –  
  
Skulduggery cleared the throat he didn’t have, releasing her wrist and standing straight, stepping back and away from her.  
  
“You should get to bed,” Skulduggery said, voice flat.  
  
“Yeah,” she said, feeling disappointed and then frustrated for it. What the hell had she been expecting? Skulduggery had kept his distance from her all night. She was being stupid. Why the hell did she even – he was her  _partner_ , for God’s sake.  
  
“Night, then,” she said, swallowing, and moved past him, careful not to brush against him. Her face was red and her hands were shaking. Stupid.  _Stupid_. She went to the stairs, putting her hand on the rail to steady herself.  
  
“Valkyrie?”  
  
She turned. “Yeah?”  
  
“You look amazing.” He stood there, looking at her, hands in his pockets again.  
  
“Thanks,” she said, swallowing. They stared at each other for a long, long, moment, him still in the foyer, her with one foot on the step. The silence seemed to be screaming at her.  
  
She couldn’t, she reminded herself, and he  _wouldn’t_.  
  
Valkyrie turned again, away from him, and headed up the stairs.

* * *

Back in her room, she looked at herself in the mirror, removed the rumpled bunny ears from her head and threw them down. She looked at herself, saw how pale she was and how her hands were still shaking. The conversation kept playing through her mind, the way he had said “amazing” going again and again in her head like a broken record.  
  
She reached for her zipper. And thought.

* * *

“Uh,” she said eloquently, cautiously walking back down the stairs, barefoot except for her tights. Skulduggery sat in his armchair, head in his hands.  
  
She stood in front of him, playing with her hair. “…The zipper is stuck,” she admitted.  
  
Skulduggery looked up at her.  
  
And then, before her brain could catch up to what was happening, he was kissing her with his façade, hand cupping the back of her head, and she was kissing him back, her arms around his neck and shoulders to gain leverage.  
  
She pulled back, because she needed to breathe, even if he didn’t. His façade grinned at her, and then after a moment passed and she still wasn’t kissing him again, worry crossed his face.  
  
“Did I… Oh, God, Valkyrie, I’m sorry.” He started to pull away from her. “I thought you... and, and…" There was a bit of a stutter in his voice.  
  
“No,” she said, laughing despite herself, laughing because he looked so ashamed and his fake face was completely red. “I just wanted to do this.” She reached toward him and shut off his façade, and kissed him, gently and chastely, on his skull.  
  
She pulled back. “That probably should have gone first,” she said, almost chastising him.  
  
“It’s really difficult,” he murmured, “to remember those sort of rules while you’re wearing that.”  
  
He turned his façade back on and kissed her again, and Valkyrie let him support her, winding her arms around his neck. He lifted her with ease, and she wrapped her stocking covered legs around his waist, and let him carry her to the wall of the living room. Let him press her back roughly against it, listened to his satisfied growl when she shifted in his arms.  
  
“I didn’t even realize how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” she said softly, her forehead pressed against his.  
  
“I’ve known how I felt for quite a while,” he admitted, somewhat shyly. He looked at her the same way he did at the club, only a few hours ago.  
  
He carefully brushed her hair away and unbuttoned her collar with deft hands, dropping it to the floor, and kissed her neck gently. Valkyrie felt his teeth brush against her skin, and then he pulled back slightly.  
  
“Can I..?” he asked, careful, cautious.  
  
“Go ahead,” she said in a low voice, using this as a chance to unbutton his own collar, sliding her thumbs across his collarbone.  
  
He leaned back towards her and gently bit her neck, leaving soft kisses against her collarbone as she stroked his, taking care to avoid the façade tattoo.  
  
She wasn’t sure how long this had been going on when Skulduggery pulled back from her, as if something had just occurred to him.  
  
“Ghastly’s outfits,” he said slowly, like a true detective, “don’t  _get_  stuck zippers. You lied to me.” He sounded almost hurt.  
  
Valkyrie laughed, and kissed him again before he could make any other observations.  
  
---  
  
 


End file.
